Always on the Edge (of Death!)
by SerenityFalconNormandy
Summary: Written for the Dragon Age Reddit Weekly Writing Prompt: "Don't feel bad, I'm usually about to die." If you're not having a near-death experience with Zevran, are you really even friends with him? My take on the quest "A Murder of Crows".


"Shit. Shit shit shitshitshit…"

_"__Shit!"_

Marian dodged a swipe from one of the Crows, dancing away from his blades and whipping her head around wildly to see who was where.

Zevran and Nuncio were locked in combat, blades flashing and clanging against each other. Fenris and Sebastian were working in tandem to cut down the Antivan's minions. Arrows flew from Sebastian's bow in rapid-fire succession while her elf cleaved into anyone who got too close to his friend. Merrill had entangled a few in vines, and was lashing another with a thorny vine-whip.

The Crow she was dealing with was faster than she was, and had managed to slash her a few times. Marian was thankful she had begun wearing her Champion's armor. If she were still in her thin old leathers, his blows would have easily torn through. That wouldn't have ended well - every time the daggers flashed towards her, she could see poison on their razor-edges. The oily substance was smeared in the lacerations the blades left in the heavy leather of her armor. She hoped Zevran could tell her how to clean her armor without accidentally finishing the job.

"Marian!"

Turning at Fenris' call, she whirled around a Crow that was charging at her and cracked her staff across the small of his back before sending a Fist of the Maker slamming down. Marian gritted her teeth as she felt an impact across her lesser-armored shoulder, rendering it numb for a moment, but thankfully without the piercing pain that would mean her armor had been damaged. One threat handled, she swung back to the other Crow. There was a flash of fear in his eyes now, she hadn't used magic when Nuncio first attacked them.

The majority of the Crows were down, with Zevran and Nuncio still locked in combat. Finally, with a quick twist to the side, the Antivan elf drove both blades into the gap between the top of Nuncio's armor and his collar bones. The man dropped to his knees with a gurgle, and then keeled over just as the last few besides hers were dispatched.

Marian's Crow went pale, then vanished in a burst of smoke. Zevran's eyes narrowed, and then he, too, vanished. Both of them re-appeared moments later, announced by a gout of blood fountaining from the Crow's neck. He let out an airy gasp, then slumped down onto the sand.

"Excellent. Killing my former brothers-in-arms is oddly satisfying," Zevran said, kneeling down and plucking a pouch from the corpse's belt before moving back to Nuncio's body and rifling through it for loot.

"Is that why you killed four assassins, their henchmen, and the Guildmaster? I'd think you'd want to pace yourself. If you keep going at this rate, you won't have any Crows left to kill in short order," Marian quipped, plunking down on a boulder to take a breather and drink from her canteen.

Zevran threw his head back, letting out a joyous burst of laughter. "I like you, Champion, you have a similar sense of humor as your cousin!"

Marian perked up, "You've met Solona?"

"_Si, _in Denerim. She is very close with the Lady Chancellor, and they are both quite fond of _mi amor,_ Darrian. Solona speaks fondly of you."

She beamed, happy to know that at least some of her remaining family thought well of her. Fenris walked over, holding a fairly large leather pouch. "They had a fair amount of coin," looking over to Zevran, he asked in an uncomfortable, concerned tone, "Do you require funds for passage back to Ferelden?"

"No, but thank you for offering." Zevran squinted at the sun as it lowered towards the horizon. "We may need to camp here on the coast. Would any of you wish to cuddle? Purely for warmth, of course."

Sebastian turned red bright red and began stuttering. Merrill nodded sagely, "The Coast does get very cold at night. We can share a tent, I don't mind." With a wistful expression and a sheen of tears, she said softly, "It reminds me of sleeping in the aravels with the clan."

The flirty expression on Zevran's face immediately gave way to sadness. "How long have you been away from your clan, _amiga_?"

"Almost six years at this point. I'm sorry," Merrill swiped at her eyes, "I get awfully homesick for them sometimes."

"No, never apologize, I understand." Catching Marian's eye and realizing she was glaring daggers at him, he tilted his head, indicating that he would be in a tent with Merrill for warmth, nothing more.

"We should try to make it as far along the coast back to Kirkwall as we can, at least," Sebastian said, slinging his bow onto his back and gathering up items from the camp that could fetch a fair price in the Low Town market.

As Fenris pulled Marian up from the boulder, she was hit with a momentary wave of dizziness.

"Marian?" Dark brows pinched together in concern.

"Just a bit dizzy, Fenris. It's been awhile since I ate last."

Giving her a side-eye, he dug into his supply pouch and shoved a piece of jerky into her hand. "Eat."

"Yes, ser!" She gave him a grin and started gnawing.

They shuffled along the sand for a bit, chatting and asking about Zevran's time during the Blight with King Alistair and the Warden, when Merrill suddenly interrupted, asking, "Oh, Hawke, is that your blood?"

"Where?" Marian twisted, not seeing any on her front, and felt another bout of vertigo.

"Your shoulder, it's dripping down the back of your arm!" Sebastian exclaimed.

"I don't feel anything, that's odd." Marian tucked her hand in and lifted her elbow, seeing the streaks of red on her arm.

Zevan grabbed her other arm, "You do not feel anything in that arm?"

"No?"

"Brasca! How long has it been?" Still holding her arm, he began rummaging in the pouch he'd taken from the slain Crow.

"I'm not sure?" The world turned, and Fenris was holding her, inspecting where the blade had broken through the leather of her armor.

"Here, friend, get her to drink this," Zevran's voice was echoing, and Fenris growled at him.

"If she dies, you're next, _friend._"

"Ah, you are welcome to try, but I promise I will not strike to kill."

Marian coughed at the bitter taste of the potion being poured into her mouth. "That's vile."

"_Si,_ but the poison would be worse. I apologize, this happened because you chose to help me."

"Don't feel bad, I'm usually about to die. Or actively dying. Hell, I'm pretty sure Lady Elegant's gowns from last season were purchased purely from the money I've spent on potions to keep me from slipping the mortal coil, as the bards say," she said with half-dazed giggle.

"This is _not funny_, Marian!" Fenris snapped.

"Ah, if you cannot laugh in Death's face at least once a month, what are you even doing with your life?"

"Living! Living is the answer, isn't it, Fenris?" Merrill chirped.

He growled in frustration.


End file.
